


got your back

by lantur



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Royai Week, Royai Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24644974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lantur/pseuds/lantur
Summary: "I'm not giving you a massage, sir. That would be extremely inappropriate."--Written for Royai Week 2020, "Old wounds."
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 28
Kudos: 131





	got your back

It’s half past seven in the evening and they are still in the office. 

This isn’t unusual. They have at least one late night a week. Roy always orders takeout for himself and his Lieutenant. Always Blomgren’s, always noodles with chicken and sesame sauce for him, and lemon ginger chicken soup for Second Lieutenant Hawkeye. They eat their meals together, on either side of his desk. The Lieutenant always brings a report to the desk and her red marking pen and sits down with every apparent intention of working through dinner. She always looks him over and suggests that he should work through the meal too, so they can both get out of the office before nine.

She also allows herself to be distracted by his conversation every time. It never fails to make Roy smile to himself, once Riza is finished with eating and immersed in her work again.

It’s a small pleasure, a simple pleasure, but these late nights are always a high point of his week. It’s refreshing to spend time alone with Riza, even if they are both working. When they’re alone like this, they can allow some of the formalities to slip, just a little. 

Roy only wishes it hadn’t rained tonight.

It’s pouring outside, the rain coming down in torrents. It’s been raining hard since the morning, with hardly a half hour of respite. The air is heavy with moisture, positively saturated. It makes him even more uneasy than he is on a typical rainy day. 

Roy shifts in his chair, changing positions for the third time in ten minutes. Nothing helps - not leaning back, not slouching, not sitting up straight. He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, and rolls his shoulders. It brings no relief. 

“Lieutenant Colonel.”

Roy opens his eyes. Riza eyes him from the doorway, a thick stack of the transcriptions from audio surveillance he had requested in her arms. “Ah, Hawkeye,” he says. “Thank you. I’ll review those now.”

Riza approaches and sets the paperwork on his desk, regarding him with some concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just trying to determine whether this possible lead in Liore is worth following up on.” Roy squints at the transcriptions, wondering why the typewriter font has to be so tiny. 

His Lieutenant notices, and her mouth quirks into a tiny smile, hastily suppressed. She’s been suggesting that he get his eyes checked for the past six months.  _ There’s nothing wrong with wearing glasses, sir. Major Hughes looks quite distinguished in his. It may even help you to look a little older.  _

Riza turns to leave, but then hesitates. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed uncomfortable all day.” 

Roy shrugs, and fights the urge to grimace at the pulling in his shoulders. “It’s an old wound that acts up in the rain. Nothing more.”

Riza raises an eyebrow, a silent question. “Ishval,” Roy confirms. “I took a bullet to the back during my second month. It landed deep in my rhomboid minor.” 

Riza winces. “That must have been painful.”

“It was. But it healed up fairly well. It only bothers me now when it rains heavily, for some reason.” Roy gives her a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ll say it’s just another reason I’m useless in the rain.” 

“It’s the drop in barometric pressure.” Riza leans against his desk, a rare display of informality. “It makes the  soft tissue and fluid around your joints expand. That irritates the nerves and causes pain, especially at the site of old injuries.” 

Roy sighs. “Makes sense, I suppose.” 

“I can bring you some painkillers and a glass of water.”

“There’s no need.” Roy glances out the window, at the pouring rain. “I won’t send you out to the pharmacy in that. You’d be swept away.”

“It’s kind of you to be concerned about me, sir,” Riza replies, in the tone that really means  _ you have no need to be concerned about me.  _ “But I keep a couple of bottles at my desk.” 

“No,” Roy says hastily. “I mean - no, thank you. That won’t be necessary. Just…” he waves vaguely at the chair. “Sit. Relax. There’s really no need to look so worried, Hawkeye. I’m not at death’s door.” 

Riza takes a seat, but she tilts her head to the side, surveying him with some curiosity. “I didn’t know that you had an aversion to pain medication, Lieutenant Colonel.”

There’s a memory that hangs, unspoken, between them. Of how he had given her two enormous pain pills thirty minutes before he had burned her back, and several more over the days that followed. Riza hadn’t been able to sit up on her own to take the first dose after the burning. He had gently lifted her off the bed, helping her stay upright long enough to swallow the pills. 

“I don’t." Roy averts his eyes from her, straightening his paperwork. “For serious injuries. Or for others. I just don’t--”

_ I don’t deserve the relief,  _ is what he nearly says.

Roy dares a glance up, and the silent empathy and compassion in Riza’s eyes nearly takes his breath away. He has to look away again, before he does something stupid. Like walk over to her, cup her face in both of his hands, lean down, and--

“I don’t wish to dismiss your feelings, sir,” Riza says at last, mercifully interrupting his train of thought. “I would be lying if I said that I haven’t had similar thoughts. But please consider this. You have to feel well in order to function your best. You won’t be able to work efficiently if you don’t allow yourself to operate at full strength. And you’re not seeking to advance yourself solely for your own benefit.” 

Roy leans back and rolls his shoulders again, meeting her gaze. Riza stares back at him resolutely, and he exhales, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You always make such compelling arguments, Hawkeye. One would be a fool to argue with you.” 

“And yet, you do. Daily.” Riza stands. “May I?”

Roy pauses, and then nods. He expects Riza to leave, in search of her bottle of painkillers, but she walks over to his right side instead, her movements a bit more tentative than usual. “Pain medication will take about half an hour to kick in,” she explains. Almost as matter-of-factly as ever, but there’s a tiny waver in her voice. “Manual manipulation of the injured area should give you some immediate relief. Enough to help you get through making a decision on that Liore lead. It’s nearly eight already, and you have a meeting at seven-thirty tomorrow morning with Grumman and Raven.”

Roy takes a deep breath, and it actually catches in his throat for an instant. He hopes Riza didn’t notice, but knows she would have. “If you’re offering, Lieutenant, please go ahead.” 

Riza hesitates, and then rests a hand on his shoulder, applying the slightest pressure with her fingers. Then she settles her other hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Tell me if it hurts, at any time,” she says. There’s still that hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I’ll stop.”

“I will.” Roy knows that she means for him to work through this treatment, since it’s Riza, but it’s  _ Riza,  _ standing behind him, massaging his tight, aching shoulders - something that he's fantasized about for a very long time. She kneads her thumbs right into the stiffness in his shoulder blades, carefully working at the knots, her touch gentle and thorough at the same time. Roy closes his eyes and melts forward without realizing it, folding his arms on the desk and resting against them. It feels so good. 

Riza exhales, making a sound that’s almost a laugh. “I meant to make you comfortable enough to read the report, Lieutenant Colonel. Not put you to sleep.” 

Maybe it’s just because he isn’t looking at her, because there’s no one else around, because it’s late, and they’re lulled into relaxation by the sound of the rain coming down outside, but the warmth, the hint of affection, in his Lieutenant’s voice comes through more than it normally does. And that feels nearly as good as what she’s doing to his back. 

“You try reading a report while getting a massage,” Roy retorts, his voice muffled by his arms and the papers underneath him. 

“I’m not giving you a massage, sir. That would be extremely inappropriate.” Riza works her thumb in circles around a particularly sore spot in his shoulder blade, and Roy has to bite his lip to refrain from making any inappropriate noises. “I’m providing you with necessary medical care for a troublesome injury that you have neglected to tend to. It’s my responsibility to look after my commanding officer’s health.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Lieutenant.”

Roy gets a sharp prod in his back for that comment, but thankfully, Riza doesn’t pull away. He relaxes into her touch, and considers that he could get used to this. It’s a dangerous thought that should be avoided and filed away with all the other stupid, dangerous, inappropriate thoughts and feelings that only she can bring out in him, but it lingers.

“You would make an excellent masseuse - or, sorry, physical therapist,” Roy observes. “If I didn’t need you by my side as much as I do, I’d suggest a career change. I would be your most loyal customer. Or patient.”

Riza pauses for a moment as she pretends to consider. “The prospect of more reasonable work hours is tempting. But I couldn’t possibly leave you to your own devices. Nothing would get done and the operations of this office would grind to a halt. I could set up practice from my desk, though.”

Roy can’t hold back at a huff at the thought of his Lieutenant massaging Havoc’s broad shoulders. “An unauthorized use of office space. Besides, I wouldn’t care to compete with the others for your time and skills.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, sir." He can hear the note of amusement in Riza's voice. “You’re the only one I would do this for.”

Roy finds himself beaming into his folded arms. He nearly falls asleep right there at the desk under the Lieutenant’s careful ministrations. Finally, though, she lets go, and Roy can’t hold back a small, disappointed sound. 

“You should feel better now.” Riza moves to stand on the other side of the desk from him. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks. 

“I do.” Roy holds her gaze. “Thank you, Hawkeye. I know that I’m always in good hands with you.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Lieutenant Colonel.” Riza looks at him, serious and genuine and subtly sweet as ever. He does feel better now - much better, and there’s only one thing he wants to do. One thing that has  _ nothing  _ to do with figuring out what to do about the lead in Liore. “Please let me know if there’s ever anything I can do to help.”

“I will, Lieutenant,” Roy says quietly. “I will.”

Riza clears her throat, evidently somewhat flustered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with some painkillers. And please finish your report on that Liore lead before it gets too late.”

She retreats quickly. Roy watches her go, and he sighs. He picks up the report and resumes his work, already wondering when there will be rain on the forecast again.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Short and (hopefully) sweet, this time. I hope that you enjoyed reading; I'd love to know what you think!


End file.
